Scabs
by Lucy Hale
Summary: Set during Prisoner of Azkaban. Ron is having nightmares. (Not slash, though there is n/c involved.)


Author's Note – This is a different story for me. It does feature talk of non-con, and it's dark. Keep that in mind, and don't say I didn't warn you. 

Also, it's not technically slash, though I may have a sequel in mind. G

This contains spoilers for PoA, which is when it's set. The end will make no sense unless you've read PoA. 

***

The first of the strange dreams that he actually remembered was short and odd: he dreamt that he was asleep in his own bed, lying there safe in his room at home listening to the ghoul rattle pipes in the attic.

It could have been any of a thousand times he'd waken up at night and lay there for a while, waiting to fall back to sleep.

Except, in this dream…someone was there.

He didn't see or hear anything. He didn't sense anyone moving around. 

He felt eyes. He felt the prickly feeling down his spine that said someone was watching him.

And then, just before he left that dream for the bright vibrancy of his normal dreams, he felt breath on the back of his neck.

***

Summers at the Burrow were a mix of the fun of summertime and the irritation of being trapped with his entire family for three months. 

He was looking forward to the last few weeks, when Harry would be coming to join them. Harry, who could make de-gnoming a garden fun. Who could be his conspirator and even things up when Fred and George felt like picking on him.

Harry, who would sleep in his room and stay up late nights talking in the darkness about nothing really important. 

***

The next time he had a strange dream of himself lying in his bed, he felt that breath on his neck again.

***

His room was…well, bright. 

He found himself noticing that during his next dream. Even in darkness his walls almost glowed with rabid orange. He didn't see any of the pictures moving, but he figured even pictures probably slept that late at night.

Before he woke up, he felt a touch on his back. 

***

Percy stared at him like he was crazy. 

He stared back. "I'm just asking."

"Is that actually happening to you?"

He shrugged.

"Well. No. I've never had dreams where I was sleeping. It sounds a little bit self-defeating, doesn't it?" Percy raised his eyebrows.

Ron smirked. "Actually I'd say dreaming you're awake when you're supposed to be asleep is what's self defeating. Maybe these weird dreams are the only ones that actually make any sense."

Percy didn't agree. 

***

_Dear Ron,_

_One more week! I can't wait to get away from this horrible place. Although something funny did happen the other day. The Muggles were watching a television show – the thing I told you about that's like a picture that moves and talks for an hour straight and tells a whole story? – and something went funny with the reception or something. Uncle Vernon wouldn't believe for a minute that I didn't have something to do with it. It must be nice to be him, and be able to blame all your problems on magic. Even we can't do that, and we're wizards._

_Anyway, it's been a horrid summer so far. I can't wait to see you. Write me back fast so I have something to read and I don't die of boredom._

_Harry_

Ron held the letter and breathed in and out steadily. 

One week, and then Harry would be in his room with him.

Good. Because he was starting to have those weird lying-in-bed dreams a lot, and he had the feeling that maybe he wouldn't with someone else there.

***

He was aware of the hands before anything else. He opened his eyes to reveal that same dream – his room, dark and silent.

Those hands were no longer content, it seemed, with brushing over his back. Suddenly they were moving slowly apart. There was a cool, feathery touch on the back of his leg, right under his arse. And another touch on his side, right over his hip.

And the breathing he'd come to expect whistling in his ear interrupted itself with a long, slow sigh.

He felt sick when he woke up the next morning. 

***

Harry sprawled out on his little pallet of blankets on the floor. A squeak rang out in alarm, and he rolled his eyes and grabbed the rat he'd nearly squashed. 

Ron laughed. "He loves you."

"Not that I don't like feeling welcome or anything, but relax, would you?" He let Scabbers go and the rat raced under Ron's bed, chittering in outrage.

Ron grinned almost giddily, the way he'd been grinning since seeing Harry earlier that day. "He's just glad you're here is all. Just like me."

"Me, too." Harry beamed at him with that little bit of shyness he never could quite shake, even with Ron.

But Harry was tired that night, and so he fell asleep almost immediately once the lights went out.

And Ron dreamed about hands sliding under his pajamas, cold on his skin.

He didn't grin so much the next day.

***

Harry's eyes were full of concern. "You're sure you're okay?"

Ron laughed unevenly. "I just wasn't hungry. Why is everyone acting like the world just ended?"

"Because. You're always hungry, Ron. It's one of the basic facts of life that we've all come to expect." Harry tilted his head, blinking behind his glasses. "Anyway, you're sort of odd lately."

"Oh, thanks a lot." Ron grinned. 

Harry sighed. "Just tell me if there's something wrong, okay?"

"I would. Right. I would, but there isn't anything."

Harry didn't seem to believe it, but he changed the subject anyway. "Tomorrow we get to see Hermione, anyway. That'll be nice."

Ron nodded eagerly. "Right. Hermione and Diagon Alley, and then school."

Harry laughed. "You're happy about going to school?"

"Well, yeah. Why shouldn't I be?"

He shrugged. 

Ron grinned maybe too widely. He didn't even want to wait the three days until the Hogwart's Express arrived. He wanted to be there as soon as possible.

Because his big hope now was that whatever this was haunting his sleep in his bedroom, it wouldn't follow him to Hogwart's.

***

It was odd in a lot of ways. 

Odd because everything about the dreams was so normal. The room he saw in his sleep was exactly the same as the one he shut his eyes to every night. 

Ever since Harry arrived, he'd even begun hearing a third person breathing beneath him, from the floor. 

Odd because he remembered every last little thing about those dreams, though he never really remembered much about other dreams; the ones where he was playing Quidditch in his underwear, or where he was at Hogsmeade holding hands with a blast-ended screwt and everything was coated in shades of purple. Those he saw flashes of when he woke up, but he never remembered them all the way. 

These were startlingly clear. So clear that he started feeling those hands on him even when he was awake, like memories of touches his skin had actually felt. 

He didn't eat much, but when he told everyone he was just nervous about school it seemed to appease them.

Harry watched him a lot. 

He stopped wanting to go to sleep.

***

The dorm at Hogwarts was just as he remembered it. Five beds, his same four friends. A little curtain for privacy, and no way for anyone to get in while he was asleep. 

Which was important, but only for his state of mind. Not that he thought the dreams were anything but dreams, but it helped to know they couldn't be real. No one could follow him from his home to Hogwarts.

Their first night there he fell asleep more easily than he had in weeks, finally feeling a little bit safe again.

***

There was a whisper in his ear, a hoarse rasp that could have been anyone. 

"So lonely…so long."

And the hands were moving everywhere suddenly. They slid up and rested on his bum for a while, before one moved up onto his hip. Fingers shoved the loose waist of his hand-me-down pajamas down. Cool touch landed on bare skin.

The hand reappeared on his hip and stroked at him slowly, almost lovingly. 

And the voice rasped. "My boy. Pretty little boy. So…so alone."

Ron found he couldn't shut his eyes. Like always, he couldn't pull away or look behind him. He couldn't make a sound. He couldn't do anything but lay there. 

"Pretty…"

***

"Weasley."

He blinked out of a fog and found the dark eyes of Professor Snape locked on him. 

"What?"

Snape glared as some of the students in the class – the Slytherin students, anyway – tittered. "Ten points from Gryffindor. See me after class. And pay attention from now on, or it'll be more trouble."

Ron sank low in his seat and forced himself to focus.

He ignored Harry's concerned eyes. 

***

"Ron?"

Ron looked away from the fire and smiled weakly. "You're still awake?"

Harry looked half-asleep but he nodded. His hair was even messier than usual, like he had been lying down. "You coming?"

Ron shuddered before he could stop himself. "I'm not tired yet."

"Ron." Harry managed to look dubious even through a yawn. "You're hardly sleeping at all. Outside of class, anyway. You really want more detentions?"

Ron swallowed and stood up. "Okay. Just…can you do me a favor?"

Harry smiled. "Of course."

"Can you…can we switch beds?"

Harry blinked in surprise. "Okay."

***

This time Ron heard the whisper before it all started. "_Immobilus__."___

Ron was back in a nightmare.

"Pretty. Pretty and sneaky. Trying to run."

Ron wanted to scream or turn and claw those fingers off. He wanted to butt his head back the inches it would take to strike out against that voice. 

"Can't run. Oh, no."

One hand was kneaded at his arse, the other dipped down from his hip and brushed, at first lightly, over his privates.

He wanted to scream. 

***

"Ron!"

Ron jerked, his eyes opening. "Wha…?"

Neville stood there, grinning awkwardly. "You're late. Breakfast is almost over."

Ron thought about food. 

Neville patted at him hesitantly as he threw up all over Harry's bed.

***

There were more important things than nightmares. Especially now that there was some deranged serial killer loose, and dementors surrounding the school. 

So Ron focused the only way he could think of – he stopped going to sleep. It was easy enough to do. The castle was huge. There were lots of places to explore. And Harry had not mentioned his worries to Hermione, apparently, because when Ron asked about spells to help stay awake (so he could study without distractions) she was surprised, and suspicious, but she found one for him.

He cast it on himself a bit more than she suggested was safe, but he stayed awake.

Of course, it only lasted a few days.

Then he passed out in Divination.

***

He came out of blackness with an absurd sense of relief, and it took him a little while to realize why.

No dreams.

His eyes opened to reveal the stern faces of Madame Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall. They were obviously angry, but his relief didn't fade. 

"Mr. Weasley. I hope you have some explanation for this." 

She held up a piece of parchment with his own scribbled instructions for how to cast the stay-awake spell, and launched into a lecture about driving yourself to exhaustion needlessly and how dangerous things like that were if they built up too long.

He didn't really listen. He just lay there and reveled in the blackness he had woken up from.

***

"My little boy. They took my little boy from me." 

Ron couldn't move. He could only fear.

"But you're back now. I missed you."

Hands everywhere, his pajamas stripped and discarded. 

The even, heavy breathing of four boys asleep in the same room. 

He wanted to scream at them. How could they sleep? 

Fingers slid over his. Fondled him for a few minutes as the breathing in his ear grew faster and less even. 

And something else touched him from behind. Something hard. Something that pressed against him, pushing against his naked arse. 

"Missed my little boy," the voice hissed out, sounding shaky. "Show him how much."

The hands slid behind him, and fingers parted his ass gently. 

And then there was pain.

***

"Ron. This is crazy. You can't keep going like this."

Ron held his knees close to his chest, peering at the fire. "I'm fine."

Harry crouched beside the large armchair and gazed at him solemnly. "Tell me what's wrong. Why don't you want to sleep?"

Ron shook his head hard. "Leave me alone, Harry."

Harry gazed at him silently.

Ron almost laughed. All the things going on in Harry's life, and he had to waste time being concerned about Ron? There was an escaped lunatic trying to kill him, and he didn't even seem to care half the time.

Harry seemed to read his thoughts. "You're my best friend, Ron. You're important to me."

Ron shuddered and grinned to himself, but it faded quickly. "Harry."

"What?" Harry asked eagerly. 

Ron laughed. 

Harry frowned. He reached out and touched Ron's arm.

The next thing Ron knew, he was on the other side of the room, hugging the wall to his back, safe in shadow. 

And Harry was on the floor by the chair, sitting up and looking horrified. "Ron?"

Ron laughed to himself, shaking. Just Harry. Harry's hands weren't the same. 

Harry picked himself up and approached him. He was confused, and he looked scared. More scared than he looked for himself half the time. 

Ron laughed again, and it choked into a sob.

Harry held him as he shook. And it felt different. Safe.

He fell asleep almost at once.

***

Things happened in a rush. Crookshanks ate Scabbers, Ron was fighting with Hermione, Harry was getting death omens from all sides. 

And Ron slept with Harry. 

Harry didn't even ask him. After the night in the common room he took to leading Ron to bed himself, and sleeping curdled up beside him, backs pressed together. Safe. Scabbers had been relegated to the empty bed until he was eaten by Hermione's insane cat.

The dreams stopped. 

Ron's sick feelings faded a little. He dreaded sleep, but days ticked by and he relaxed a bit more each night. Things were almost okay again.

***

And then he broke his leg and the mad killer turned out to be innocent and Scabbers turned out to be alive and evil and the animagus who had killed Harry's parents. 

Ron spent a long night in the hospital wing getting tutted over by Pomfrey. Harry and Hermione were there to keep him company. 

The next night he was back in his dorm. Harry was still downstairs talking to an excited audience over how he had managed to escape the 'deranged madman' Sirius Black. 

Ron went to his own bed. He slipped on his pajamas and lay himself down carefully, and didn't wait for Harry.

He was safe now, and he knew it.

Knew it as soon as that voice had rasped out at him.

Squeaky at first in fear. _"You won't let them kill me, Ron, will you…"_

Then his own voice, in disgust. _"I let you sleep in my bed!"_

The other voice, now rasping and low. _"Kind boy…kind master."__  That sweaty, repulsive little man coming at him like something from a nightmare._

Followed by his own realization. His recognition of that voice. 

_Missed my little boy.__ Show him how much._

He knew now, they had never been dreams. 

_I let you sleep in my bed!_

Knowing that didn't keep him from wishing he never had to sleep again.


End file.
